


Absolution

by amelia



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), BDSM, Begging, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Consensual Kink, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Flogging, Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Needy Crowley (Good Omens), Nipple Clamps, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Repression, Rope Bondage, Shibari, Smut, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22340038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelia/pseuds/amelia
Summary: Crowley is a wicked, naughty demon who needs punishment and absolution. And Aziraphale is just the angel to give it to him. With this happy loophole, these two find a way to have some private time and release.Trouble is, Crowley really wants more.Nothing really but filthy, kinky fluff and some angsty celestials.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 103





	Absolution

Crowley entered the bookshop quietly and set his leather satchel on the table near the back. 

Aziraphale was doing his best to dissuade a potential customer. “Oh you don’t want that edition. It’s rather pricey, and someone’s written translations in the margin.” 

Then he looked up. “Oh, hello, Crowley!”

“I think I’ll take it,” the man said. “There are some rather foul drawings in here. That’s unique.” 

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said. He had rather liked the naughty sketches and yet found he couldn’t justify keeping them. 

Crowley had thrown him a smirk and began running his fingers along some of the cloth-bound books. Seeing this, the angel swept over, grabbing a cloth and wiping down the bindings. “Why you naughty fiend!” he fussed, in a quiet growl. “You know oil ruins old books.” 

“That’s why I’m here,” purred Crowley, gesturing over at his bag on the counter. “Naughty, wicked demon, that’s me.” 

Aziraphale threw him an exasperated look and rang up the persistent customer, banging the keys on the old register with a heavy hand. His face was red and slightly fuming as he wrapped the book. “Fine, here you go. Take the book, get out, there’s a love.”

He shepherded the man to the door, as if he was afraid the fellow might linger and find other books to claim. Then, yanking the latch shut with a decisive clap of metal on metal, he locked the door. The bookshop was closed.

Crowley was pacing, his long limbs restless. “I brought the things.” 

Aziraphale came over to inspect the items Crowley poured out of the bag, picking up a leather flogger. Crowley watched Aziraphale’s fist close around its handle, stroking it. The angel said, “This one’s nice, but you didn’t bring the gag like I asked you to.”

“I don’t want to be gagged, Angel,” Crowley pouted. “Don't you like it when I tell you how I’m feeling?”

“Can’t have your people or mine listening in because you accidentally called for them,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“Yes, Angel,” Crowley said, removing his sunglasses and setting them down. His eyes were flashing golden-yellow. 

“You’re ready then? For your absolution?”

“Oh yes,” drawled Crowley. “Been on edge all day.”

“Come in the back.” 

“Don’t mind if I do,” said Crowley, impertinently.

Aziraphale led Crowley into his cozy, crowded office where the desk was overflowing with books and papers, the ancient computer sat unused, and the couch was draped in dusty coverings. 

“You know what to do.” Aziraphale disappeared in the back, as Crowley stripped. 

Feeling slightly awkward and naked, Crowley sat down on the carpet in the corner to begin the treatment. He couldn’t recall when Aziraphale had started treating him, only that this was how it worked. The only way Aziraphale would be intimate with him was if he acknowledged his wickedness and submitted, completely. 

He felt like a demon then, naked and sprawled on the floor, forbidden from the comfort and the dignities afforded to humans. Aziraphale came back in shortly, with his teapot and a cup on a saucer, and he sat on the sofa with a satisfied noise. 

“Are you ready to confess your sins?” he asked, sipping the Earl Grey. 

Crowley did not so much crawl as slither over toward him, stopping a foot or so away from the angel. Something about being on the floor on his knees in front of him was already affecting Crowley. 

“I’ve tempted a girl to steal apples from the market,” Crowley started in a voice that sounded more like a brag than a confession, “to feed her family.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and set down his cup. “Come here, Crowley.”

Crowley sidled forward as Aziraphale reached out a hand, and let the angel stroke his face. “But that’s good.”

“I’m not good,” Crowley pouted, leaning into the touch. “Wicked, naughty, that’s me. A man touched her, and I punished him. Tempted his wife to cheat with her therapist.”

“Hm,” Aziraphale considered, clearly unconvinced. “Tell me what else you’ve done, Crowley.” 

“At my apartment, there’s a pile of boxes. I went to Amazon and all the office supply shops and bought up all the toner needed for a particularly common printer used in offices throughout London. Nobody can print, and it’s all my fault.” 

Aziraphale’s mouth curved into a laugh despite himself. “That is rather wicked.”

“Well done, me?” said Crowley hopefully, proudly. “Naughty wicked me? Can you punish me, angel?”

“Yes, I think you’ll definitely deserve a lashing.” Aziraphale stroked a line down Crowley’s neck, across his collarbone, his eyes scanning Crowley’s body. He could probably see the way Crowley’s hair was rising off his arms, the light goose pimples, and the way his cock was already twitching. 

“You might have to restrain me,” Crowley suggested, leaning forward and grasping the angel’s knees. He bent down, kneeling and rubbing his face on Aziraphale’s thigh. “Want to be bathed in your holy light, angel.” 

Again Aziraphale stroked fingers through his hair, running his knuckles along Crowley’s jaw. Crowley’s tongue snaked out, tasting him, trying to take two fingers in his mouth. 

Aziraphale adjusted himself, pulling away. “That’s enough of that, you wicked thing.” He rose, reaching for the items Crowley had carefully arranged on the table before stripping. Considering them, he picked up a white nylon rope. 

Crowley shivered as Aziraphale walked over to him, draping the rope carefully on his shoulders, and running it down under his thighs. As it rubbed against his balls, and Aziraphale moved around him carefully, lashing the rope around his hips in decorative little knots. 

Crowley panted as he did this, feeling the rope gliding on his skin like another snake winding about him, slippery and sleek. He watched the concentration and peace on his angel's face. Crowley’s hands reached out, gripping and letting go of Aziraphale’s legs and hips as he moved around him, scrabbling at the fabric of his prim, tidy suit.

“Stop that,” Aziraphale said, batting away his hands.

“You should take these off, Angel.”

“That wouldn’t be proper now, would it?” Aziraphale asked.

He surveyed his work. Crowley was draped and tied up like a pretty package. His cock was hard and clearly straining for more, but he was sitting obediently still. Aziraphale took the end of the rope and tied it to the desk. 

“I think that will do. If you get handsy, I’ll have to get the cuffs."

Crowley whined in the back of his throat. “Enough of this. Are you going to take me, angel?”

“Why, you impertinent thing!” Aziraphale was still holding the end of the rope and used it to turn Crowley around. He leaned over and said softly into Crowley’s ear, “When I say the word, you will put your hands on this chair so you can be properly whipped.” 

Crowley could feel the soft breath on his skin and pushed into it, pressing his face into Aziraphale’s shirt and rubbing a cheek on his shoulder. 

Aziraphale grasped Crowley’s hair, and pressed a kiss to the demon’s temple. “I’ll give you what you need, demon. If it’s too much, you remember what to say?”

“Philodendron?” Crowley muttered.

“Very good,” Aziraphale ran a finger down Crowley’s chest and tweaked his nipples. 

Crowley let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, as Aziraphale reached over to the table to grab the next implements. He had a dark, determined look on his face as he came back to stand in front of Crowley and knelt down.

“Ready?” Aziraphale’s eyes were soft and asking permission.

“What are you waiting for?” Crowley responded, spitting out the words at his soft, hesitating angel. At that, Aziraphale yanked one of Crowley’s nipples taut, then clamped it. Crowley grunted, then groaned as the same was done to his other nipple. 

The clamps were small, metal things with a soft plastic surface that pinched him. They were connected by a handsome chain and had small looped snakes draping off them that hung down against Crowley’s ribs. He swayed his shoulders, feeling the rope shift and the snakes and chain brushing against his skin. 

The pressure of them bloomed into a pinching, low grade pain that took the edge off the anxiety he’d been feeling. Crowley draped his head back into the sensation, his jaw slack as he waited for whatever came next. 

“Wicked demon,” Aziraphale steadied him with a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “You need to suffer a little, as you made others suffer.”

Somehow it was hard for Crowley to get out a steady noise to form the word, “Yes.”

“Now then, lean forward.”

“Won’t you?” Crowley said, gripping at Aziraphale’s pant legs, “take these off? Take something off?”

Aziraphale knelt down and again wrapped an arm around the demon’s shoulders and murmured in his ear. The warmth of his chest settled in around Crowley through the soft fabric. “Not yet. If you’re good, and not wicked, we’ll see.” 

“You’re so damn pure, angel,” Crowley moaned, leaning into the touch and shifting his legs, getting the rope to rub against himself. “I can’t stand it.”

Aziraphale pushed his back firmly till Crowley was leaning forward, his hands gripping the edges of the chair. He closed his mouth around the tartan cushion, needing the sensation even if it wasn’t angel skin he was kissing. 

Aziraphale drew sharp fingernails down the sides of his spine. Crowley uncoiled himself, arching into the touch, pressing his backside backward until Aziraphale’s palms found and squeezed at his buttocks. Like a cat, Crowley elevated himself into the touch, growling low in his throat.

“Eager for it, are you? You dirty demon.” Aziraphale sounded amused, but trying to keep a straight face. His calm, stoic taunting just made Crowley more frustrated.

“Yes,” Crowley called, “Filthy. Naughty. Need it.” 

“Let’s see what we can do about that,” said Aziraphale reasonably, but then he drew away. 

“Do something!” Crowley felt as if there were ants on his skin, itchy and irritated and teased, and he want to get away and rub himself on the floor. “Spank me? Angel?”

A rough sensation of multiple dry fingers drew itself along his back, and Crowley breathed into it. Aziraphale was drawing the soft tails of the flogger down his body, then followed it with his own warm palms, easing Crowley’s discomfort. 

Lightly, Aziraphale slapped his hip and scraped his back. Lightly, he drew away and took the first swat with the leather. The edges of Crowley’s nerves lit up, and when the first blow came, the rough sensation bloomed down deep in his backside and arced up through him. 

He grunted, feeling the relief in his bones echoing through his head. Aziraphale hit him again, then against the other buttock and on his back. The blows fell with a rhythm, but he couldn’t predict where next. Crowley grunted and groaned and thrust his hips pointlessly into the air. His dark red erection drooled on the floor. He had some satisfaction knowing Aziraphale wouldn’t like his carpet dribbled with semen. 

“I’m a nasty, naughty demon,” he moaned. “Aziraphale!”

The blows stopped and the angel’s soft palm rubbed his backside. No doubt he was red and welted, and the angel’s touch was cooling and too soft for his liking. 

“I need more,” he hissed.

But the angel settled behind him, scraping his fingers around Crowley’s hips, up and down his thighs. 

“I’m so hard, angel,” Crowley murmured. 

“Next time, perhaps we should get you a cage for that little beast of yours.” Aziraphale sounded perfectly calm and amused as he examined Crowley. 

“Want to come,” Crowley turned his head, trying to look back at the angel and turn himself around. 

Aziraphale pulled away and picked up the rope. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He yanked, pulling Crowley upright toward him. Crowley moved forward, his fingers reaching for Aziraphale, who held his ground even when Crowley stepped forward, hovering right beside him. The demon pulled at the angel’s vest buttons, deftly undoing a few, and then looked up. They were just a few inches from each other. If Crowley pushed his hips, just a bit, he could rub his dripping cock along the angel’s trouser leg and soil it. If he leaned forward, he could kiss the angel. But that might break the spell. 

Aziraphale watched as Crowley undid the rest of the buttons, and then he withdrew and wrestled the vest off his shoulders. “That’s enough, now. Stay there.”

Crowley grunted in frustration, but stayed where he was, still swaying to feel the movement of the chains on his chest and the rope around his hips and balls. He watched as Aziraphale rolled up his sleeves and undid the top buttons of his shirt. 

Then with his strong hands, he pushed Crowley backwards by the upper arms, against a wooden column. The varnished wood was cold on Crowley's backside, but Aziraphale’s hands were warm and big. 

Crowley pushed his hips forward, hoping those strong palms would come down to hold his cock, or reach up to push into his mouth. 

Instead, Aziraphale drew back again and picked up the flogger where it lay on the floor. Crowley could see the wet spot where his cock had been dripping, and it would have made him proud, but he could also see the wet spot on the chair cushion he’d been moaning and drooling on, sucking it into his mouth and begging for more. 

He flashed a smile. “Hurt me, angel. I’m a nasty, little demon. I deserve it.” He leaned his shoulders against the column and arched his chest forward. 

“Well, one thing you’re not is little,” returned the angel. Aziraphale’s face was sweaty, his cheeks bright and pink with effort. He drew his arm back, and he landed the flogger against Crowley’s chest, drawing the leather around the clamps. The sensation prickled and sent a rush through his nipples, straight to his cock. Crowley threw his head back and howled. 

Aziraphale did it again and again until Crowley was shaking, moaning, and could barely take anymore. 

He wanted to call out for Satan, or Hell or even for heaven, but he knew that was off limits. It would bring down too much risk for celestial notice or interference. It was the one thing that terrified them both about what they were doing. Even if Aziraphale claimed this was done in the name of heaven, they both knew punishing demons wasn’t in his job description. Especially if the demon was begging for it. 

The blows rocked through his system, his cock aching for more touch and his skin on fire. Crowley was going to discorporate, or else he was going to come, or else he was going to lose control of his legs and fall to the ground. Wildly, he stared at the ceiling, taking the blows and wondering what would become of him, and if he would finally see the face of God again. Or Beelzebub, pissed off at his insolence and laughing at his humiliation. 

Because he was loving this humiliation, wasn’t he? He breathed, and panted, and noticed that he was suddenly able to breathe easier, because the blows had stopped. Aziraphale stepped toward him, his hand closing on Crowley’s wrist. Crowley couldn’t do more than look at him, still moaning softly, his jaw trembling, half crying in his distress. 

“I think maybe that’s enough, do you?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley moaned and sank to his knees, pushing his face forward into the angel’s belly and reaching up to grasp at his shirt and his hips. “I’m sorry,” he said, “for everything. That we can’t make this work. I’ll be better, angel. I’ll do anything.” 

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale said, settling his hands on Crowley’s shoulders and running a hand through his cropped hair. “You’ve done good today. You hear me?” 

“Not good.” Crowley nuzzled at Aziraphale’s shirt further, yanking the fabric with his teeth, but the angel’s hands gripped him as he tried to undo his buttons. “I want to do naughty, wicked things with you. You want me to beg? I’ll beg, angel. Let me taste you.” 

Aziraphale trousers were a delicious color of cream, pure and clean. Everything about the angel tasted sweet and soft, but Crowley could feel the warm, swollen press of his cock and nuzzled it with his mouth. 

“Stop, Crowley.” Cool hands brushed the sweat away from Crowley’s temples and pulled his head back. “You know,” Crowley said, “I can unhinge my jaw, like a snake.” He made a lewd movement with his tongue to indicate exactly what he was proposing to do to the angel. 

“I want to know something,” Aziraphale said then. 

“What, Angel?”

“Have you been dallying with anyone?”

“Dallying,” repeated Crowley, dumbly. 

“You know,” said Aziraphale, reaching down to his belly, then yanking the rope tight, pulling against his balls and cock enough to make him yelp out and groan. "Distracting yourself with anyone else?"

“You mean, have I been sleeping with anyone? Having sex?”

“That, yes.” 

Crowley stared at the floor. He slept with people sometimes. It was rarely the same person twice, and he usually had some excuse about tempting someone to do something, and it was like scratching an itch. It didn’t ever hold a candle to this. It had nothing to do with what he wanted to do with Aziraphale. 

“No,” he lied, then quickly amended, “not the way you’re thinking. It doesn’t matter, angel. I don’t think we should talk about this now. Please?”

Aziraphale sighed and pulled away, coming back with a bottle of water. “I want you to drink some of this.” 

He held the bottle up to Crowley’s lips, and they didn’t break eye contact as Crowley drank. A bit of the water dribbled down his chin and chest. Aziraphale brushed fingers through the hair, brushing off the droplets and mingling them with his sweat. 

“Are you ready for me to set you free?" the angel asked with his maddening calm. "Do you want a bit more punishment?”

Crowley whined and pushed forward to hold Aziraphale’s arms in the iron grip of his long fingers. “You know what I want, Angel.” He rubbed his nose along the angel’s cheek and reached out a tongue to taste his sweat.

“Now, really,” Aziraphale started to pull away.

“Aziraphale, why is it like this? Why can’t you just lay with me?”

“You know why,” Aziraphale answered coldly. “There’s only one way, Crowley. That’s why you’re restrained.” 

Crowley sighed and sat back on his heels. Aziraphale wouldn’t ever agree to sleep with him. The only way he meant was if Crowley forced himself on the angel. 

“I’d never do that,” the demon muttered, hiding his face in his hands. Even if the angel wanted it, he knew he couldn’t ever force him. 

“I know, love.” Carefully, moving around him, Aziraphale started to loosen the rope from the desk, and untie it from Crowley’s body. The demon let him slide the rope along his skin and fiddle the knots open, without moving. He shut his eyes and breathed into it. Finally, Aziraphale repositioned him, moving his knees to one side, and pulled off the clamps at his nipples. 

Crowley thrashed at the sudden sensation, but Aziraphale grabbed him quickly, holding him by the shoulders. Naked on the floor, his cock still dripping and hard as a rock, Crowley moaned helplessly. “Don’t stop now.”

“You’re all right,” Aziraphale said, turning and reaching over to the table on more time. He returned with a small bottle. “Show me your hand, my dear.”

Into Crowley’s palm, he squirted cold lube. “Angel?” looked at his palm and up at him.

“You have permission to touch yourself now. Show me how you do it when you’re alone?” Aziraphale left the demon sitting there, staring at his hand, and sat back on the couch. 

Crowley scooted forward, finally taking his cock in his palm, nearly levitating off the floor and arching into the air at his own touch. After all that sensation, it was all almost too much. He gripped himself and pulled and stroked, and his fingers went to his nipples that were still raw and tender. 

He watched as Aziraphale took a sip of tea. He looked calm and collected. But Crowley knew his tells and could see his hand shaking. After a sip, he put the cup down. His feet were firmly planted on the floor, his knees spread, and without taking his eyes off Crowley, the angel reached for his trouser buttons and started to release his own cock. 

He was hard, his body pink and luscious and soft, and Crowley wanted nothing more than to slither over and take him in his mouth and come on his perfectly cream-colored trousers. 

They stroked themselves, watching each other. Crowley realized that’s what he’d been waiting for. His cock pulsed in his hands, and he spurted in a long arc over his own belly, wetting the carpet and generally making a mess of things. Which is after all, what he was good at. 

“You naughty demon,” murmured Aziraphale, and groaned most unangelically, then came as well in neat, tidy dribbles. 

Crowley crawled over to him and leaned against his legs, between them, licking away the mess. The angel’s stomach and penis were soft and pliable, wet and sour tasting, and he moaned, his cheeks pinker than ever. 

“Gotta keep you clean and pure, Angel.” Crowley smirked up at him. 

“Thank you, I suppose.” Aziraphale drew a blanket from the sofa beside him and draped it around Crowley’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmured. “So strong and disciplined. You didn’t even touch yourself till I said you could.”

Crowley took a shuddering breath and calmed at the touch. The angel’s fingers swept through his hair. Crowley nuzzled against the angel’s leg, gripping his ankles, as if he could bury his face in the angel’s thighs. “I’d like to please you, Aziraphale.”

“You have done. It’s time you sat up here with me, Crowley.” 

Crowley looked up at his glowing, beautiful angel. Carefully, he pulled himself up and settled on the couch. Aziraphale fussily rearranged the blanket around his shoulders and pulled him closer. “Come here.”

“I’m absolved now then, of my evil deeds for the week?” Crowley asked, semi-sarcastically.

“Insofar as I can grant you that, you’re forgiven,” said Aziraphale. “Did you enjoy it?”

Crowley leaned forward, reaching an arm around the angel and leaning against his shoulder. “Of course. I’d enjoy it all night if I could. You could fuck me later.” 

“Now don’t be absurd.” Aziraphale swatted lightly at Crowley’s naked bum. 

Crowley mumbled. “You think the only way you can be with me, that you can justify this morally, to upstairs, is if you’re punishing me, or absolving me of sin?”

“You’re a demon,” Aziraphale said, as if it were perfectly reasonable. “We can stop if you want. I gave you a safe word.” 

“You really believe somehow there’s some kind of absolution, even for a demon?”

“We can try,” Aziraphale smiled at him and kissed Crowley’s cheek. 

He didn’t believe it, Crowley could see. But it was what he could allow himself. It was the technicality he felt he could get away with. 

“You like trying,” Crowley drawled, smiling. 

“We could try candles next,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully, shifting his legs up onto his couch. 

“They’re good.” Crowley moved along side him so they were lying together, Crowley resting slightly on top of his angel. He kissed Aziraphale’s cheek. “I just want you. Maybe I’m no better, no more or less than a man.”

Aziraphale gulped and looked at him. “You’re so much more than that. You are—well, what you are.” He turned and took Crowley’s face in his hand. “I don’t think I want to change that, even for the world.”

“Even for the world?” Crowley leaned forward, forgetting to breathe, and they leaned into each other, foreheads touching. 

“After all this time, taming you,” Aziraphale said, “Thwarting you, even helping you with the Arrangement? What would I be without you?”

“Well,” Crowley considered, feeling a bit of his confidence returning, “A lot more innocent, sexually, I would presume.”

Aziraphale laughed. “There is that.”

“That there is,” Crowley repeated and shrugged. “And what would I be without you?” 

“A bit more wicked of a demon, I suppose.” Lazily, Aziraphale stretched, dislodging Crowley, who slithered off the couch before he fell.

He stood, surveying the room. There were the wet spots in the carpet, the chains and ropes still lying on the floor. His skin was still raw and tender, but the edginess had drifted away, and for the moment he felt satisfied. 

He leaned over on a whim and kissed the angel’s head with its light fluffy curls. Aziraphale smiled up at him beatifically, and then Crowley strode over to collect his clothes and pull them on.

Sprawled on the couch, the angel watched him. He looked pretty well pleased with himself, thought the demon.

Crowley paused in the doorway. “Same time next week then?”

The angel nodded, propping himself on the sofa like a plump figure in a painting. “Leaving already? I have a lovely bottle of wine in the back. I thought we could, I don’t know, dally a bit more?”

“Think I’d best be going,” Crolwey said. If he stayed, he’d probably be wanting another go round all too soon. It wouldn’t do to ruin things with all he wanted, just yet. 

“Oh, very well,” said Aziraphale, standing. He walked Crowley to the door and squeezed his shoulder with one hand. 

Crowley paused there, surprised by the touch. “You know I’d stay if…”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Best not say that…”

“Right. Bye, then, Angel. Don’t sell too many books.”

“I’ll keep all the best dirty drawings for you to look through. Good night, my demon.”

Crowley leaned in and pressed a kiss to the angel’s mouth, before Aziraphale could protest. And then he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> what have i just spent the day doing? oh no.  
> Make it worthwhile, leave a comment ;)
> 
> PS. I'm looking for an image of the ropes I imagine Aziraphale tying which would be a simpler version of the shibari harness shown here. Very decorative and ties from the shoulder to the crotch. https://www.theduchy.com/karada/


End file.
